


206[9]: Oddity ²

by yossarian359



Series: Shitposts and Humor [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: All sorts of crazy stuff, Cunnilingus, F/F, Foursome, Humor, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slipstream shenanigans, Smut, Spanking, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, soft sequal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 06:29:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14928986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yossarian359/pseuds/yossarian359
Summary: Two Tracers. Two Widowmakers.I wonder what all sorts of fun they could find themselves in?Or: A great big Widowtracer foursome.





	206[9]: Oddity ²

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sitriga](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sitriga/gifts).



> For the lovely Sitriga, who suggested this crazy idea I couldn't turn down ;)

It was, at first, what seemed to be a perfectly normal day in the lives of Widowmaker and Lena as they stumbled through the doorway of Lena’s London apartment. They fiddled with the clasps of their clothing to remove as much of it as they could while their mouths hungrily clashed and fought for control over the other before Lena finally gave way, falling with a gracious thud on the couch as Widowmaker then straddled her hips, unbuckling her chronal accelerator before carefully removing it.

“Hmm,” she hummed, the sound causing Lena’s heart to quicken. “This seems familiar,” she purred, leaning in to capture her sweet lips, taking the time to slip her tongue into Lena’s warm welcoming mouth, causing her to mewl. 

“ _ Ever get the feelin' of deja vu?” _ Lena huffed, breathless when they parted.

“Shut. Up.” Widowmaker commanded, harshly unzipping Lena’s aviator.

“Make me.”

Widowmaker promptly did by sliding her hands down to feel those soft breasts beneath the linen cloth of her undershirt.

“Oh.” Lena gasped, suddenly quiet.

A low musical chuckle fell from Widowmaker’s lips, “Too easy,” she said, leaning in to place a kiss on that tempting neck. 

“Not bloody fair,” she squirmed under her, “Your voice could make a nun wet.”

“We need to have a chat about your dirty talk, mon coeur,” Widowmaker chimed.

An evil smile crossed her face and she took her hands off Lena, an audibly disappointed whine ensuing. 

“Perhaps it’s time for a lesson,  chérie. It appears you seem to enjoy the sound my voice.” She said, eyes glinting with mischief. “I want you to close your eyes and listen to what I say.”

When it seemed her little salope was not cooperating, she grabbed her waist and harshly turned her over, pressing her front into the couch. Teeth brushed Lena’s ear as Widowmaker leaned in to whisper.

“Do exactly as I say, or you _will_ be punished.” She growled, yanking her orange tights down with a force that nearly ripped them, revealing Lena’s bare and shapely bottom. Widowmaker smiled as she discovered no underwear on her love, confirming her previous suspicions. How naughty of Lena; to tempt her all day wearing her iconic yellow tights with nothing between the thin fabric and her sex.

Lena must have been quite thankful they didn’t rip. Widowmaker knew they were expensive. She also knew how much the sharp distinct sound of ripping fabric turns Lena on. Perhaps she wouldn’t have been able to stop herself from turning around and trying (unsuccessfully) to overpower Widowmaker and take her right there.

Of course, that would mean  _ punishment _ would be necessary. Widowmaker’s lip curled with a satisfied smile: she could read Lena’s excitement across her lusty face from a mile away. It was clear that Lena too wondered what kind of punishment such disobedience would bring.

Widowmaker didn’t give her much time to think as a blue hand came down hard on her ripe bottom with a loud  _ smack _ .

Widowmaker’s mouth went dry when she saw Lena’s soft pale skin blush a deep red when she withdrew her hand from her ass. She particularly enjoyed the squeal she made, badly concealed pleasure heavy in her voice.

Her teeth grazed Lena’s ear, “You have been a very foolish girl.” 

She drew back, tongue darting out to wet her full lips as she brought her palm down again to her firm behind.

This time Lena did little to hide her pleasure, and practically groaned when a hard smack hit her soft flesh. She even slid her knees under her, to provide Widowmaker with a larger target area; not that the world's deadliest sniper needed such an advantage. However, the new position did expose a far more tempting target.

“You’re clearly enjoying this too much, chérie” Widowmaker said, bringing her hand to gently pat at Lena’s entrance. This was supposed to be punishment, and the slickness she found as she explored past soft pink folds clearly indicated that Lena was enjoying this far too much for it to be considered punishment.. Widowmaker clasped Lena’s chin with two of her fingers, turning her head back so she could see her, before placing her wet fingers to Lena’s lips, offering the chance for her to taste herself on Widowmaker’s fingers.

Lena accepted, welcoming her fingers with a warm tongue and open mouth. She whimpered as she tasted the musky sweetness of her arousal.

Secretly as this was happening, Widowmaker mobilised her other hand and brought it smack hard against Lena’s cunt. 

Hips bucked forward as she tensed and then quivered, letting out a sharp muffled moan that sent vibrations around Widowmaker’s fingers in her mouth.

Lena’s pleasure was so intense, and Widowmaker so focused on her task, that they both failed to notice the small flash of white light and the squeaky pop that signaled the presence of two familiar interdimensional observers--who had been watching carefully for more than a minute before Lena spotted them out of the corner of her eye.

“BLOODY HELL!” Lena jumped, or at least tried to as she struggled to move with her tights around her knees and ended up falling off the couch. Or at least the top half of her body did as Widowmaker gripped onto her ass for safety and comfort. “The  _ fuck _ are you two doing here again?” Lena asked incredulously, from her position half on the floor with her ass in the air.

Casually watching were their apparent doubles that they had encountered once before in their adventure through the slipstream. 

“Just poppin in,” said Lena, the  _ other _ Lena--the one that was an edgelord dressed in black and blood orange, currently wearing a very enthusiastic grin. “Don’t stop the show because of us. Slap her cunt again, would you, love?”

The _other_ Amélie, who was dressed sharply in a blue Overwatch uniform, tisked quietly. “Such vulgarity, chérie.” 

The seemingly Talon Tracer turned to her lover, “Aw, but you love it when I beg you to touch me there,” she said, batting her eyelashes.

Widowmaker--the blue one--arched a fine eyebrow. She was intrigued at how open this Tracer was being about such intimacy. Her Lena tended to be more restrained in public. However, behind closed doors that restraint snapped like a thread and she was a beautiful degenerate lusty mess.  _ Her _ beautiful degenerate lusty mess _. _

This revelation on the other hand seemed to exasperate her Lena, who’s pretty ass was red all over with the extremely obvious shape of Widowmaker’s hand. “For fuck sake. Is there a single universe where I’m a bloody top?”

Blue-Widowmaker smirked, “Apparently not, mon coeur.” Her sentence was punctuated by the unmistakable sound of Lena getting spanked again. “Now--what do we do with the situation we have found ourselves in?”

Her opposite gave a sultry smirk, “My offer still stands. I have a feeling that the four of us could get into all sorts of trouble.”

"Wha-?" Talon Tracer spluttered, “You want me to shag that poncey princess?” she said, gesturing to her alternate. However, her initial tone subsided as she further appreciates the view. “Gosh, I do have a nice arse don't I?” she said, cocking her head. 

“Well, that settles it then. Any objections, questions?”

“Just one question, loves.” Lena spoke as she struggled to stand up, tights getting caught around her knees.

Her Widowmaker noticed what was happening before it happened and had to make the painstaking decision to either catch her, ensuing promises of grateful sex later, or letting her fall much to everyone's (and particularly her own) amusement. After weighing up the pros and cons, she decided on the latter, and Lena fell, after doing a rather impressive pirouette, onto the soft carpet of their apartment floor.

“Bollocks.” she grunted, then yanked her tights up to finally allow her some mobility, despite the fact she knew with almost certainty that they would be going off again in a matter of minutes. “Names!” she shouted, exasperated. “Bloody names! Bit confusing the four of us, innit? Two an’ two the same, y’know.”

Both Amélies glanced at each other to make sure that Lena was still speaking English. However, the other Tracer understood perfectly.

“Worried you dunno what to scream out, love? When I got my tongue in your quim?” She licked her lips, and Lena flushed.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“I get it.” She humed, stroking her small cherubic chin. “Take it you’re Lena?”

“Yup.” Replied Lena. 

The other Tracer made a disgusted noise. “Call me Tracer then, Lena is my  _ slave _ name.”

“Kinky.” replied one of the Amélies, before Lena could respond.

“You know it,” Tracer shot back. 

Her partner responded with a hum, smooth as silk as it built into a deep laugh. “Amélie.” She said simply. “That is what you will be screaming. And you?” She gestured to her other self.

  
“Widowmaker,” Widowmaker replied. And Amélie momentarily struggled to keep a straight face.

“Widowmaker?” She said, in a tone that oozed a smug sense of superiority. “What an obvious and cliche name.”

“Tais-toi, salope.” Widowmaker snarled, finding it a touch humiliating to be out  _ Widowmakered _ by herself. “Mon nom est parfait!  Qu'est-ce que tu racontes?”

Amélie humed sweetly before replying. “Vous  êtes un rejet de  le Blue Man Group.”

This was met by a sharp offended intake of breath from Widowmaker, and a cough from Tracer.

“Oi, English!” she said. “Unless you’re talking sexy.”

“How do you know we were not, ma chérie?” Her Amélie purrs, feigning a sweet innocence.

“‘Cause, ‘le Blue Man Group’ isn’t french,” she sauntered her way over to where Amélie was reclined. “It also doesn’t sound sexy to me love. And if it does to you, then we need to have a serious chat.”

She stooped down elegantly to capture her lovers lips.

“What are you thinking about, love?” Tracer asked, enjoying the slight tingle on her lips from Amélie’s rather intense kiss.

“I’m considering what to have for an appetizer.” Came her reply. Sounding disinterested despite the fact she most certainly wasn’t.

By now the other Widowmaker had helped her  petite amie off the soft carpet and came over to where the pair were talking. She stood behind Lena, framing her body with her arms, as if putting her on display. 

“Would you like to see the menu?” Widowmaker teased as her arms wrapped around to Lena’s front. Though Lena’s top was gone, she still wore a linen undershirt a size too small for her and her unzipped aviator jacket that  Widowmaker presented her in. A hand on her body snuck it’s way up under that shirt, the other falling to caress her sharp hip bones, sending a visible shiver through her body.

Lena breathed heavily, “Oh god yes,” she said as her head fell back. Widowmaker used this opportunity to kiss at her vulnerable neck.

Both Tracer and Amélie found themselves rather captivated by this. “I don’t think a menu will be necessary, your special have already caught my eye.” She turned to Tracer, who was focusing very intently on Widowmaker’s hand disappearing beneath Lena’s tights. 

“Chérie,” Amélie said, demanding her attention. “I want you to go fuck yourself.”

Tracer’s eyes lit up. “Oh fuck yes.” She looked as if she had to stop herself for making a jump on Lena, instead she settled for roughly taking her by the shoulders and closing the distance between their lips.

Widowmaker felt like a matador as Tracer tackled, a gush of wind following the raging bull and the pretty thing taunting her.

_ Her _ Lena was always gentle in their lovemaking. Oh she was never boring, no, quite the opposite in fact. However, seeing this hungry aggression in her lover’s counterpart was very  _ intriguing _ .

Tracer’s kisses were rushed and heated on Lena’s mouth and face, but they were anything but sloppy. She delt blows with such precision as she kissed down the side of the cheeks, running a warm tongue to her chin as she trailed down to her soft vulnerable neck. All the while Lena whined and moaned, clearly still worked up from her spanking before.

Apparently in the universe where there were two Lena’s, hers--Widowmaker’s--was still the bottom.

Widowmaker watched as Tracer quickly divested Lena of her attire. Leather jacket coming off with a thud, followed quickly by the rip of linen as Tracer had grown impatient of fiddly bras and undershirts (she herself didn’t waste time with such luxuries), and produced a knife to skillfully slice her way through to the bare skin underneath.

“It seems she doesn’t, as ma chérie would put it, ‘faff’ around.” Widowmaker said, sitting down on the couch next to her other, who was intently watching the spectacle before them.

Amélie let out an almost  _ too _ dark laugh for her particular idiom. “You have no idea.” A glass of 2066 Bourgogne Chardonnay would have completed her look. “I do love her.” Her eyes were dripping with desire as she watched Tracer fully strip Lena bare with a delicate knife, much to Lena’s very visible excitement. Widowmaker followed her burning gaze to where cloth just feel back, revealing damp folds beneath fine curls. She hummed in agreement to Amélie’s previous statement. “Oui.”

Her indulgent gaze at the indulgent gays was interrupted as Amélie turned to her with  _ that _ look of nonchalant superiority (It was supposed to be  _ her _ look!) “What is that  _ hideous _ suit you’re wearing?”

“My combat suit is fantastic _ , _ I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The colour is a  _ hideous _ pink.”

“It is purple. I have no idea why people keep--”

“And it’s so impractical,” interrupted Amélie, who’s hands decided to wander to Widowmaker’s waist, trailing upwards. “Anyone can just… Oh, silly me,” she said, not so innocent to the fact that she had just pulled apart Widowmaker’s plunging neckline to reveal her lovely breasts.

Widowmaker smirked. “It does have it’s advantages,” she casually lifted her breasts up. “Do you like them?”

Amélie humed in approval, “They are mine after all.” she purred, moving to loosen her own stylish Overwatch garb.

“How narcissistic of you.”

A heavy whimper filled the air, Tracer was showing Lena how much she appreciated her self, much to Lena’s delight.

“It appears we aren’t the only ones,” Amélie gave a coy smile, glancing at their partners enjoying themselves.

Tracer had managed to fully divest Lena of her clothes and tied up her hands with a red velvet cloth to the top frame of the bed (did she always carry that around?) “You’re really sexy, love.” Tracer huffed, hands greedily roaming her body while straddling Lena’s middle. “But I’m sexier.”

“Oh yeah?” Lena challenged.

“Yeah.” Tracer quickly proved it by stripping, skillfully removing her clothes till she was down to a lacy black panty. She didn’t bother wearing the rest of her underclothes, so it was puzzling why she kept that one in particular. Perhaps she liked the design or the feel of it. 

Her hands wasted little time outlining the curve of her own body before toying with Lena’s.

“We’re the same, yeah?” Tracer said.

“What about it?” Lena snarled back, still keeping up her facade of indignation.

“So I know that you can be a good little slut if push comes to shove.” she said, sliding her hand back. 

“Fuck off mate. You know nothing abou… _ oh _ . Oh!”

“What was that?” she teased, running her hand away from Lena’s entrance.

“Don’t stop.”

“Say please.”

“Please!” Lena moaned as those fingers came back, drawing smooth circles around her clit.

Tracer giggled as she watched her other self come undone under her touch. “Told you you’d be a good girl for me. Now, open your mouth.” she shimmied up her body until her knees were straddling Lena’s head. She pulled her panties to her side, revealing her gleaming sex, pretty and pink.

_ So that’s why she wore those. _

Cool fingers touched Tracer’s before she could mount Lena’s face. Amélie kneeled where Lena’s legs came off the bed, gently spreading slender thighs. “I can’t let you have all the fun, chérie.” She said, kissing around Lena’s damp folds.

Widowmaker slid on the bed and kneeled above Lena’s head, using both hands to clasp Tracer’s ass, feeling firm familiar muscle. “Let me help you with that.” She drew Tracer towards her until her core lay above Lena’s mouth before meeting her lovely lips with her own.

Lena moaned sweetly. Partially because of the extremely erotic sight happening above her, but also because Amélie had  _ finally  _ stopped her teasing, her tongue exploring and tasting damp wet folds.

Hearing this, Tracer lowered herself so that Lena could work at her cunt, enjoying the soft vibrations Lena’s pleasure sent through her body. In return she moaned into Widowmaker’s mouth while rocking her hips, riding Lena’s face.

To avoid leaving  Widowmaker out, Tracer brought her free hand forward to feel Widowmaker’s wetness before sliding two fingers inside her.

Moans--pleas for  _ faster, harder, don’t stop _ \--overlap in an intoxicating chorus of pleasure as they each draw themselves closer to climax.

That was when, of course, they were interrupted.

Three sharp knocked at the door, before she sauntered in. Flowing red hair, lovely freckles, blemishes, wearing a deep green dress accentuating her figure, and two hungry brown eyes taking in the  _ delicious _ scene in front of her.

“Have you four been having fun without me?” Emily said coyly, playfully pursing her lips.

“Don’t you mean, without  _ us _ , darling.” Replied  _ another _ Emily behind her. This one rocking what one could only assume was black and red combat lingerie leaving very little to the imagination. In her hand she fiddled dangerously (and somewhat seductively) with a long steel knife.

The other Emily turned her lust brown eyes around and kissed her with a fiery passion, knife falling limp from her hand.

“I’m sorry,” she says, not sorry in the slightest. “But you look positively edible.”

“Of course I do, I am you after all.”

Meanwhile the menagerie on the bed looked on with profound interest.

“The more the merrier I say,” said Lena finally, earning a simultaneous affirmation from both  Amélie’s and herself.

“Oh good,” came a disembodied voice, followed by the distinct sound of a cloak being deactivated. “Been here all along.”

 


End file.
